


Born from the Foam of the Sea and Fathomless Depths

by Nalyra



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Radiance fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 13:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: My entry for the "Radiance Anthology"... Will and Hannibal taking the first steps after the fall.





	Born from the Foam of the Sea and Fathomless Depths

**Author's Note:**

> Ironically, this was written at the very beginning of the call for contributions, long before I even sat down to read Neil Gaiman's book, because, as ingenious as it may be, his style simply is not for me. (I tried to read "Good Omens" 7(!) times because I love Terry Prattchett but, alas... I never finished it.)  
> So I wrote this, and looked things up and ... slapped my forehead a few months later when I finally forced myself to read American Gods in preparation for Bryan's adaption. Go figure.
> 
> Hope you'll like my take though! :)
> 
> (there's even a pic for it, which you can find [HERE](https://78.media.tumblr.com/5af8d694244eee7bf8bd64f6b593610a/tumblr_inline_p19oc449RB1tfgpxd_540.png)^^)

__

The ferocity is unmatched, a mix of beast and man and force of mind, pitch black in the moonlight. He hides his eyes for a moment and rests his head on the shuddering human imago, clutching at its form, bruising in intensity. The world tilts and then rearranges itself with a brutal shift of blue and black and green, ripping all masks away.

The human veil has fallen and the antlers pierce the dark sky, stars hidden by stormy clouds, the Wendigo floating in the dark abyss, weighted down by water’s sluggish embrace. Above, amongst the roiling waves, is the vision that would rend its heart to pieces if it just let it, the very antithesis in form, light and wisp, fatally beautiful. The siren’s call that sealed the beast’s fate, their embrace torn apart by the sea’s insistence.

It stretches its arm out, yearning, reaching, knowing it is futile, the blood in its mouth diluted by the water, the red drifting away. The light streams up in tendrils, away from it, up through the dark grayish depths, shimmering green where it touches its surroundings, fusing with the tails of the apparition manifesting itself.

A negative really, not dark and red but white and blue, the eyes black with white irises, raised to the heavens, daring the elements to interfere with his transformation. He raises his arms and the Wendigo opens its claws, trying to grasp at the vision. The arms shudder and then diffuse into almost wings, the halo of blackness enveloping the form that rises above the waves, slowly, so slowly, escaping the element that birthed him. His tail, lightly scaled, coils forcefully just beyond the beast’s reach, lifting him ever more.  
The Wendigo snarls, its form fading in the depths, unable to withstand the element any longer, unable to follow, its form growing more translucent with every second, keeping its red eyes on the one being that managed to force him to leave this plane of existence, force his energy to transform. It snarls again, the old Greek name stealing itself into the Wendigo’s mind, before the shadows disperse and pure will exists, only.  


‚Cecaelia‘.

Sea witch.

 

*****

 

Will wakes with a scream, a gurgling scream, blood and spit dripping from his mouth, the stitches in his cheek hurting and he snaps his mouth shut, his hand coming up to cover the dressed wound from the outside, bearing down on the pain until it recedes, breath coming back slowly.

Hannibal slowly turns to him where he lies on the dirty bunk next to him, the old fisher boat swaying gently with the waves. He patiently watches Will breathe through the throbbing, his own breathing shallow still, the pain medication sparse.  
Will turns his head on the pillow of his own bunk, the space between them filled with stale air, soiled cloth and too many questions, things left unsaid while trying to survive in the aftermath of Will’s becoming. He swallows and moves his tongue around a bit, still thick in his mouth but maybe, just maybe able to articulate again, even if the words come out a bit slurred, his gaze locking with Hannibal’s, tone dry.

„I think the Wendigo died.“

Hannibal lets out a startled laugh, eyes crinkling, his left hand falling forward to grasp at the edge of the bunk, his own voice rough with disuse, having kept the silence with Will for so long, communicating through gaze and touch, for days on end.

„Did it now?“

Will exhales and then blinks in acknowledgement, watching Hannibal silently again for a long time, Hannibal’s voice breaking the renewed silence eventually like a stone shattering a glass wall.

„Tell me Will, how did it die?“

Will’s mouth drops open and his eyes flicker away for a second, recalling, his neck prickling, the shift not forced by a pendulum anymore, reality’s fabric twisting in the mesh of antlers, spreading along his consciousness. His voice echoes in the quiet of the cabin, the sea a dreamlike backdrop, watching images only he can see.

„It faded…“

Hannibal narrows his eyes, voice intent.

„How did it fade?“

Will works his jaw for a moment, eyes flickering.

„It fell beneath the sea and reached but couldn’t…“

He trails off, frowning, lids fluttering slightly. Hannibal whispers, breathless.

„What could it not reach, Will?“

Will’s frown deepens, eyes moving around, unseeing, the word drawn out.

„Me….“

Hannibal tilts his head on the pillow, burrowing into it slightly, his right hand coming up to push under it, providing some leverage. He presses his lips together for a moment, before prodding some more.

„Why could it not reach you, Will?“

Will inhales deeply, refocusing his eyes, locking them with Hannibal’s again when he opens them.

„I was transforming. Down in the depths there were only wisps of fading tendrils, gliding through the Wendigo’s hands. I…“

Will tilts his head a bit, a faraway expression crossing his face.

„I was light and tendrils and force, darkness shrouding me and pulling me up, far away from the watery grave I chose for us both.“

He swallows, blinking owlishly, and Hannibal grinds his jaw for a moment, pursing his lips. Will whispers, harshly.

„It called me ‚Cecaelia‘ before the dream ended…“

Hannibal smiles viciously, eyes flashing for an instant.

„Ah, how very fitting a name. A sea witch, sometimes with powers attributed to succubi, or in your case incubi as well, master of the waves and depths.“

Will cackles for a moment, dryly, his eyes shivering darkness, his right hand waving at his face.

„Incubi… I doubt I’ll be fitting the general description when this has healed. One more for the collection.“

Hannibal reaches over, his left hand hovering over the wound dressing, just out of reach under his fingertips. He lets his feelings show freely in his gaze for a moment, trying to let Will see it all.

„A beautiful kintsugi.“

Will grinds his jaw, his features drawn for a moment before relaxing again with an effort, his lips still stained red with droplets of blood and Hannibal yearns to wipe them away, forcing his hand to rest on his own bunk with an effort. Will swallows and then spits the words out, just short of bitter, adapting to this reality, still.

„A kintsugi you shaped.“

Hannibal raises his eyebrows, opting for brutal honesty.

„Yes.“

He hesitates for a moment and then repeats the words from the cliff, his eyes glowing red in the low light.

„This is all I ever wanted, Will.“

Will exhales sharply through his nose, his voice weary.

„Healing on a shabby boat, with your body held together by my uneven stitches?“

Hannibal smirks slightly, rebuking softly.

„To witness your becoming, Will.“

His smile widens, sharp teeth glinting for a moment.

„And it is beautiful.“

He clicks his tongue, slightly rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

„Even though your subconscious seems to insist on stopping my… extracurricular activities.“

Will looks away, brows furrowing, voice carefully neutral.

„Would you?“

Hannibal narrows his eyes for a moment, his tone sardonically amused, balanced on a knife’s edge.

„Is this the famous ‚If you love me you’ll stop‘ speech?“

A snort is the answer, Will’s blue eyes returning to his, unflinching, voice derisive.

„Now where would be the sense in that?“

Hannibal is quiet for a long time, watching Will work through the emotion, the tang of acidic derision and ferocious appetite heavy in the air between them, unwilling to further voice the things they both know for facts. Will turns and settles on his back on the narrow bunk, watching the low wooden ceiling with hooded eyes. Hannibal settles down again as well after a while, Will’s voice tearing into the fabric of time and space when he speaks, rumbling, destroying realities in its path, accompanied by a soft sigh.

„So long have I fought… Fate and circumstance have insisted to gift us with a new life, together. I… wish to taste her.“

Hannibal’s pupils dilate, his mouth opening with a rushed exhale, the clicking of his tongue hiding the shiver running through him, carefully kept from the tone of his voice.

„Vicious boy.“

The rolling of eyes, the rebuke amused and yet sardonically, all fears gone.

„Oh please, as if I was that much younger…“

Hannibal smiles softly, noting the missing objection to ‚vicious‘, the verdict freely accepted, at last. He hums, clicking his tongue again.

„You would need to resurrect the Wendigo then, Will.“

Will turns his head, blinking slowly, eyes as muddy as the sea around them, not really asking.

„You cannot be the Wendigo anymore though, can you, Hannibal.“

Hannibal raises his eyebrows for a moment, his voice dropping to a whisper.

„What can I be now, Will?“

Will turns his face away again, his left hand coming up to trace the veins of the wood above him.

„Our old lives are gone. If I am to be a sea witch slash incubus then you are a jinn, burning with choice and freedom of will, unbothered by moral constraints.“

Hannibal tilts his head in consideration, the expression on his face vaguely reptile like and then nods, once, lips pursing. A smile plays on his lips, there and gone again, playing on memories of times long gone now.

„And how does that feel like?“

Will closes his eyes, his breath rushing out, carrying the vague scent of copper with it, a tickle of want in Hannibal’s nose.

„Like deliverance, freeing me from the mortal coil.“

Hannibal smiles softly, voice tinged with amusement.

„Very well then, let us be mythical.“

Will snorts and then chuckles, turning back onto his side, facing Hannibal slowly, eyes crinkling at the corners, voice shivering with humor. 

„A mythical rare pair of the lame and the wounded, hidden on a boat at sea…“

Hannibal smirks and then reaches out his hand, elated when Will takes it after a moment, their fingers entwining between them, scorching where they touch.

„The only fitting place for us to be, really, mylimasis.“

Will’s eyes flash but he does not comment the endearment, his voice almost inaudible.

„Why?“

Hannibal squeezes Will’s fingers softly, his words reverberating between them.

„Because you are born of the sea.“

Will sighs and then tilts his head down, watching the gray sky through the window in the cabin door, his eyes calm now, half hidden, peaceful, his hair fanning out, a black halo, offset by the almost translucent pallor of his skin, the deceptive frailty hiding the deadly claws.  
Hannibal smiles, triumphantly, beyond relieved, his eyes glowing red, burning with truth and fires long tamed, fanned from the sparks of waiting embers by a dragon’s bloody, leathery wings.

**Author's Note:**

> _____
> 
> Feedback or criticism are always welcome!!  
> Kudos and comments feed my muse :)


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